


Stupid F*cking Piece of Sh*t

by KiwiCutie013



Category: Dream SMP -Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, mcyt
Genre: Abuse, Addiction, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Angst, Arguing, Bad Parenting, Binge Drinking, Cigarettes, DadSchlatt, Dream Smp, Family Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jschlatt Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt-centric (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Sad Toby Smith | Tubbo, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Tubbo is Jschlatt's son because I said so, Violence, drunk, self-neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29693667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiCutie013/pseuds/KiwiCutie013
Summary: “What are you thinking, Kid?” Schlatt questioned calmly, blowing out smoke from his cigarette as he looked out at the Manburg city lights; the city seeming unreal at this time of night.“I was just thinking a lot, actually,” Tubbo admitted, nervously fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. “I dunno. You know those thoughts?” The teen began asking, his voice sounding uneasy even to his own ears.“...the ones that tell you your stupid and that you suck and all that stuff. That’s just a dumb teenager thing, right?” Tubbo questioned, looking over at his dad with glassy eyes. “They do go away when you're older?”“Uh, yea…” Schlatt staggered, nodding a little. “That’s right, kiddo.”Just a day in the life of Jschlatt... :)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Floris | Fundy & Jschlatt, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 144





	Stupid F*cking Piece of Sh*t

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna sit here and pretend like this isn't a vent excuse to write more Jschlatt '-'
> 
> Also the title and repeated phrase is based on Bojak Horseman, 4x06
> 
> Enjoy <3
> 
> Edit: went back and fixed some spelling mistakes because I made this last night at 2 am and sleep-deprived me can't write :,)

Schlatt shot his eyes open, waking up with a hitch a breath. He sat up, nausea from last night’s binge drinking immediately settling in his stomach. He rubbed at his eyes then, groaning as his vision blurred slightly from the movement. 

He noted that he was in his king-sized bed in the Manburg Whitehouse. Only, he didn’t remember falling asleep in his room. He remembered being at his desk, filling at paperwork with a bottle of whiskey in front of him and then- 

That was it. 

He must’ve blacked out. 

Fuck not again. 

Never again. 

He’d do better today, he decided. 

Well, at least he awoke to quiet in the Whitehouse and not at his desk to a very pissed off, yet concerned Quackity shaking him awake with a scared ferocity. 

Schlatt shook away the thought as he reluctantly got up from his bed, glancing back at the ruffled covers despite the clean linen sheets being too expensive to ever look that rugged. 

He contemplated straightening them out but made no move to act out the idea as he turned for the bathroom, stumbling towards it. He reached for the knob, his hand missing a few times before it landed on it and he was able to properly grip it and tug the door open. 

He stepped into the bathroom, flicking on the light on the wall and wincing as the light blared from the bulbs along his large sink mirror and blinded him momentarily. 

He rubbed at his eyes, his vision clearing as he sighed and leaned forward on the sink ledge, his palms against the quartz as he looked up at his murky mirror, his own ugly reflection screaming back at him. 

He looked like shit. 

He wore the same thing he had the night before, his dress shirt only half-tucked into his slacks and his tie lose. To top it off, his hair was a ruffled mess and his eyes looked bloodshot, making his skin look paler than it did. 

Stupid fuck, why do you do this to yourself?

You’re a piece of shit, you know that?

A stupid fucking piece of shit. 

Well, at least you know you're a piece of shit, unlike other pieces of shits who don’t know they’re pieces of shits. 

That at least made you better than those pieces of shits. 

Right?

No, if anything it made it worse because now you were a stupid fucking piece of shit that was also self-aware. Which essentially made you a worthless, stupid fucking piece of shit. 

Schlatt glared at his reflection, reaching toward the mirror to pull it open and reveal the cabinet behind it. He glanced at the contents, shuffling through pill bottles and other item assortments before grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste and being quick to brush the smell of whiskey out of his mouth. 

He leaned forward, spitting the remains of the toothpaste into the sink, nauseous lingering on his tongue as a result of the hangover that threatened to take over. 

He gagged a bit, swallowing back vomit as he shivered, shaking off the feeling and being quick to reach back into the mirror cabinet and grab the comb in there. He brought it up to his messy hair, brushing the strands around his horns until each strand was as he wanted it. 

He put the comb back in the cabinet and shut the mirror, giving a fake smile at his reflection before he dropped it and headed for the door. 

Breakfast time he supposed. 

Schlatt walked past the kitchen, giving the room a good inspection as if something would be new. 

He didn’t need it. 

He’d probably vomit up any contents eaten anyway. 

Oh, don’t be a miserable piece of shit, go make yourself breakfast you fat fuck. 

Schlatt slumped in then, but instead of going for anything edible, he poured himself a cup of coffee, leaning back against the cabinet the coffee maker was on as he took leisure sips from the hot liquid. 

This isn’t breakfast, you fucking dumbass. 

It was coffee that Fundy probably made. 

So not only was it not breakfast, but it wasn’t for you. 

Ugh, fuck that. His country, his rules. 

He could probably get Quackity to make him something to eat if he wanted to. 

Er- he didn’t want to ask anything from him. 

He didn’t deserve the man’s kindness. 

Something in Schlatt’s stomach churned and he grimaced, lowering the mug and sliding its contents into a nearby sink before discarding the cup in as well and stepping out of the room and towards his office. 

Might as well get some work done. 

You know, the work you were supposed to get done yesterday, but didn’t because you can’t fucking do anything productive with your time? 

Yea, that work. 

Schlatt walked with ease and confidence and a posture that resembled power as he strutted into his office, raising a brow at the scattered papers on the desk as he approached it, slamming the door behind him with a force that would scare off the rest of his cabinet. 

If he was gonna be a miserable worthless stupid piece of fucking shit, he might as well keep his image intact. 

He glanced behind his desk at the large windows showing off his great city and for a moment just stood in front of them, watching people walk the streets of Manburg. 

That was his country. 

_ His.  _

Something about that made him grin. 

Schlatt turned back then, satisfied as he sat down at his desk, sorting through the papers and items scattered as he began organizing them. He was going to be productive, goddammit. 

It was a new day, he wasn’t gonna waste it.

  
  


He had work to do and he felt bad every time he dumped it all on Quackity last minute because he just couldn’t fucking do it all by himself. 

Schlatt picked up a stray pen then, reaching for a piece of paper as he read through it and noted that all he had to do was sign something at the bottom. He extended his left hand down to the bottom of the page, watching the slight shake in his hand that definitely meant his body was craving more than just a few sips of coffee and the excess scraps of energy from the previous day. 

Schlatt sighed, dropping the pen as he glanced up at his desk for some water or anything edible. 

He was met with nothing, but the mostly empty bottle of whiskey from last night. 

He froze at the site. 

It was tempting to say the least and it would absolutely stop the shaking, that was for fucking sure. But he needed to be productive. 

Oh, come on, there was barely anything left in that bottle. Surely a little wouldn’t destroy his day? 

But he knew if he started, he’d never stop. He had more. 

Schlatt dipped his head, looking away from it and back towards the paper in front of him as he read the text again. 

But his eyes kept glancing up at that bottle. 

Piece of shit. 

He groaned, reaching for a small glass in his desk’s cabinet. He pulled out the cup and reached for the whiskey, popping off the cap as he poured a small amount into the glass. 

He placed the bottle, with only around one-fourth of its liquid left, back, quickly retracting his hand from it as he stared at the glass in front of him. 

Don’t. 

Don’t you dare take a sip from that glass. 

Don’t you fucking do it.

Schlatt bit his lip before fisting his own hands, halting their shaking in frustration as he extended a hand towards the glass, smacking it off the table and watching as it flew across the room; the glass shattering and the liquid pooling lightly around the shards. 

He leaned back against his chair with shaky hands reaching back to grip at the small strands of his hair before he sighed. 

There. 

_ Better.  _

Schlatt shook his head, leaning forward as reached for the bottle of whiskey. He looked away from it then, popping off the cap, as if somehow avoiding making eye contact with his action, he wasn’t fully doing it. 

He took a swig then, chugging straight from the bottle as he lowered it a minute later with a content sigh; the liquid pleasantly burning his throat. 

He leaned back against his chair and planted the bottle on the counter before bringing a hand up to rub tiredly at his face, ignoring the fact that the bottle was now completely empty.

You fucking pig, I can’t believe you just did that, his own thoughts chastised him. 

Stupid fucking piece of shit. 

That’s it, he decided quickly, feeling shitty about the action. 

One drink. That was it. 

His shaking would stop and then he’d be able to finish his work. 

A small pull tugged at his subconscious because, fuck, he knew where he had more. Why bother remaining sober when he’d be tipsy within minutes? Besides, he had already royally fucked up his “new day” 

No, don’t do that you stupid piece of shit. 

You’d never get anything done. 

And wasn’t that the point of all this?

“SCHLATT!?” 

Schlatt shot his head up from his desk, sitting up from his arms groggily as his vision doubled in front of him. “Huh?” He questioned, his voice hoarse and his throat numb. 

He noted how he was no longer leaning back against his chair, but had just shot up from resting his head in his arms. The light in his office was gone and instead, there was a stream of moonlight, emitting from the windows behind him and there was a new bottle out in front of him. 

An almost empty bottle of vodka with the sticker mostly scratched off. 

Fuck, what happened? 

It was only supposed to be one drink, why was it dark now with him having no recollection of the day?

Because you obviously didn’t stop at one drink, his mind stated obnoxiously. 

Stupid fucking piece of shit. 

“Schlatt?” The voice that woke him up questioned again, their tone less angry and more...concerned. 

Schlatt looked up from his desk, his eyes connecting with Quackity’s, who was standing in front of him, his hands crossed over his chest. 

“-Uackity?” He slurred, the beginning of the word not quite coming out due to the lack of vocal strength. 

“Jesus, Schlatt,” Quackity marveled disappointedly. “What happened? Why’s there broken glass everywhere?” He asked, exasperating his arms to his sides. 

“Just get out,” Schlatt mumbled, bringing a hand up to rub at his face tiredly. 

Quackity looked around the room with worry before stopping just upon his mess of a president. “Dude, you don’t look so goo-” He began saying quietly. 

“I said get out!“ Schlatt interrupted angrily, his voice harsh as he shot up from his chair and slammed two palms down onto his desk to illustrate his point; the bottle of Vodka tipping over on the table from the force. 

  
  


Quackity immediately jumped back, fear lingering on his face until that fear shifted into anger. “Fine,” He hissed, stepping away. “I don’t have to put up with this shit.” He told Schlatt, watching the fire in his eyes as he turned for the door. “Tell me when you're done being a piece of shit.” He hissed, storming away. 

Schlatt’s expression saddened. 

Stupid fucking piece of shit. 

He watched as Quackity left, slamming the door as he did. 

Schlatt sighed then, tipping his head down towards the floor in frustration as he let out a shaky breath and attempted to collect himself. 

It's fine. 

He’d finish his work tomorrow. 

Right now, he just needed a cigarette. 

Schlatt stood up straight, adjusting his tie as he moved towards his door, grabbing his dress jacket off the back of the frame's hook as he did. He slipped it on, straightening it out as he grabbed for the doorknob to his office and opened the door. 

He stepped out into the Whitehouse's main hallway, glancing left and right for any trace of Quackity. 

When he saw none, he sighed in relief, turning down the hall towards the balcony. He dug a hand into his slack’s pocket halfway down the hall and grabbed a cigarette from the cartoon in his pants. 

He returned the rest of the cartoon back in its place then as he made his way to the balcony door at the end of the hall. lacing the cigarette in his mouth and reaching into his other pocket, he grabbed for a lighter as he nudged the door open with his shoe and stepped outside; the cool air shooting him awake like a spark of electricity. 

He baked in the clean air for just a moment, taking that time to light the cigarette in his mouth and take a long and soothing drag from it. 

Schlatt sighed, bringing his hand up to take the cigarette from his mouth as his body relaxed and he approached the rail of the balcony. 

It was then, only then that he noticed the other person leaning against the balcony's frame. 

Schlatt looked out towards the night sky, shooting a glance towards Tubbo, who was leaning on the balcony rail as well, something thoughtful in his eyes. 

Tubbo. 

His son. 

Who obviously looked like he was going through something as his stance remained stiffened and his face looked solemn. 

Schlatt continued staring at the teen, taking another hit from the cigarette. 

Say something you stupid fuck. 

He’s your kid. 

_ Yours.  _

Be a dad or something and tell him everything's going to be ok.

“Hey…” Tubbo greeted with a small, but obviously forced, smile as he noticed Schlatt’s gaze. 

The kid looked on the edge of calling him dad, but quickly halted the action. 

He knew how much Schlatt hated it. 

“Hey.” Schlatt responded dully, looking away from him. 

It was silent then. 

Silent because Schlatt couldn't work up the nerve to ask his own kid how he was doing. 

“Um, I-” Tubbo started, pausing nervously. 

And Schlatt knew the teen wanted to tell him something. 

“What are you thinking, Kid?” Schlatt questioned calmly, blowing out smoke from his cigarette as he looked out at the Manburg city lights; the city seeming unreal at this time of night. 

“I was just thinking a lot, actually,” Tubbo admitted, nervously fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. “I dunno. You know those thoughts?” The teen began asking, his voice sounding uneasy even to his own ears. “...the ones that tell you your stupid and that you suck and all that stuff. That’s just a dumb teenager thing, right?” Tubbo questioned, looking over at his dad with glassy eyes. “They do go away when you're older?”

That caught Schlatt’s attention as he slowly turned his head to meat Tubbo’s gaze and gave him a soft, yet solemn look. 

“Uh, yea…” Schlatt staggered, nodding a little. “That’s right, kiddo.” He eased, turning back to look at the dull, empty night sky. “They uh- they go away.” He assured. 

Tubbo smiled. 

And Schaltt felt horrible for lying to the kid. 

_ You stupid fucking piece of shit.  _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> For more Dream SMP related content, follow me on Instagram @Tuckers_bitcc
> 
> What...?
> 
> I can self-promo on my own page >:)


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